


In Sickness

by Hyacinthium



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hope's Peak Academy (Dangan Ronpa), Common Cold, Fluff and Humor, Light Angst, M/M, Oumoron, Pre-Relationship, Sickfic, Sumb, Ultimate Talent Development Plan (Dangan Ronpa), Yay Nyquil
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-17
Updated: 2018-11-17
Packaged: 2019-08-24 21:18:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16647995
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hyacinthium/pseuds/Hyacinthium
Summary: Saihara Shuichi is suffering from the common cold. A common cold straight from the lowest reaches of Satan's icy prison in hell. He prepares himself for an ignoble death in his soon literal death bed. But life has a way of being unpredictable.





	In Sickness

**Author's Note:**

> My friends are sick, I was sick, everyone is ill. And so I gift this to all fellow sick people. May your bowls spill over with appropriately temperatured soups, your lozenges work, and your medicine be strong but not drug you out. Hail hydrate and devour citrus! Drink the tea, rest!

Saihara Shuichi is ready to die. He has taken a blind gulp of cold medicine, has used his last tissue, and is languishing under his covers. Whatever a nose is supposed to be, the detective can only feel a numbed and clogged faucet. The boy's right ear suddenly pops as internal pressure fades. Yet the heaviness does not leave his eye sockets.

This is how his upperclasswoman, Kirigiri, will find him- dead in his bed with the finicky thermostat unwittingly turned up high, so much that cause of death will include sweating. 

Warm and soft covers that once gave reprieve are now his bane. Even the return of somewhat cringe inducing vocabulary cannot distract Shuichi from the truth. His three day doctors note expires by morning. Leaving the bed cannot happen. Shuichi can't even comprehend his own phone. 

This change of seasons cold is his doom.

Coughing wetly, the boy wheezes before turning on his side. For a moment he considers attempt to call or text someone. Then he remembers that his phone dropped behind his bed. Alongside the canned soup that Shuichi barely managed to make. But he did manage to pour an unholy amount of red pepper flakes on it. Other spices included and not slightly remembered. That helped all his sinuses for a few minutes though. Even if he only got three spoonfuls, Akamatsu would probably say something cheerful and upbeat about it. 

Like, but it helped! Right?

Shuichi just groans and rolls to the other side of the bed. His blankets wrap around him as if to make a burrito. A sad, wilting, gross burrito. No one would eat him. It's a fact that comes to the boy's mind as a strange type of drowsiness starts hitting him.

After a few minutes Shuichi two wonderful facts. Extreme sleepiness is starting to overtake him. His cold symptoms are getting less murderific. Maybe everything will turn out perfectly fine and wonderful.

In a single split second of blissful hope, a trail of liquid snot starts threatening to run down his face. This immediately kills all and any positive outlook growing in him. Shuichi whimpers and prays that it doesn't happen. He doesn't have any tissues and his handkerchief is God knows where. Using anything else will punch him into a new layer of sickness hell. Glazed eyes slowly shut, head continuing to pound, and Shuichi can only thank his past self for turning the lights off. 

Wait. No, past Shuichi is an asshole that decided it was a good idea to forget his jacket. While going to hang out with a group that contained Komaeda. 

Past Shuichi is an idiot asshole.

Current Shuichi is groaning pitifully at the sound of his bedroom door opening. He opens his eyes very quickly when maybe three plastic bags drop onto his floor, some of which must contain heavy objects. This perfectly coincides with his lights turning on. Shuichi instinctively clings onto his blanket shield and whimpers as his eyes burn. He knows for a fact that he locked his door-

"To think that Saihara-chan would be this way after just a bit of ice cold water!" comes as familiar voice.

Saihara Shuichi is suddenly very not ready to die. Not like this. Good God, not like this.

"Ouuma-kun ghet ouut or 'ill arrest you," the boy hesitantly murmurs. He accepts that he's pathetic but there's no way he's going to accept Ouma mocking him. After somehow getting into his room. The detective twitches futilely and says louder, "It was alotta water!"

Ouma just laughs loud enough to make Shuichi startled. After a few seconds of obnoxious 'nishishi', the Ultimate Supreme Leader lays down a trap. He says, "And I have a lot of spicy chilli for the person that stole all the spices before dumping them into a cup noodle."

It's a trap just as Shuichi’s first thought says. His second and third all agree that there's no way Ouma has brought anything like soup. Bait, stick, and then Ouma will just leave after a prank. Maybe he only has soup ingredients. Maybe he has three separate soups that combine to make what he claims to exist. Maybe Shuichi is thinking too much while under the influence of cold medicine.

Shuichi slowly shifts around and shimmies out of his blanket-tomb. His gold eyes squint at a grinning Ouma Kokichi. There is indeed a small container labeled as chilli in the other boy's left hand. It even says that it's spicy and freshly made. Written in crayons and taped onto the container, which seems to have what it describes within. In the boy's right hand is a bowl. That smattering of detail is enough for a raised eyebrow. 

The whole 'Ouma in an apron with his scarf holding his hair back' thing makes Shuichi’s jaw drop though. Forget the implications of the soup either being homemade, poisoned, or both. 

Ouma is wearing an apron with frills and pink butterflies on it.

"I see. So I've died already," Shuichi mutters. "After everything that's happened. I died from a cold and this is my purgatory."

"Your nose is dripping and it's disgusting, Shumai. What about some of these tissues?"

The oddly reasonable tone and promise of tissues doesn't bend Shuichi’s willpower at all. Mostly because he has zero willpower to bend. His hands quickly reach out to the edge of his bed. Yet Ouma doesn't even make demands for begging. A box of silky soft tissues is opened and placed into Shuichi's greedy hands. As is a bag of 'gently cooling' lozenges and 'full guard' vitamin C supplements from the same brand. 

Shuichi grunts and rips both bags open, sticks one of each into his mouth, and then blows his nose. The tissue is apparently moisturized. It feels amazing. Then it is gross and oh god that's so much-

The small trash can near Shuichi’s bedside is full and gets forced to accept further tribute anyway. 

Ouma immediately snatches the overloaded thing and puts it into a large green garbage bag. There's a determined scowl on the boy's face. Shuichi doesn't have a single clue what the boy is doing. He just watches Ouma put a shiny new, and identical, replacement down. A plastic bag is placed inside. Confusion prevents Shuichi from asking what the hell is happening. Has happened. His trash can in its entirety is gone. The bag gets tossed into the hallway.

Purple eyes and purple gloved hands look at him.

"Germs are bad," Ouma slowly says as if to a toddler. 

He then holds out a bowl of chilli in Shuichi’s general direction. Still confused and mildly certain that dissociation is starting, Shuichi takes the bowl. Pale fingers clasp around it and suck in warmth. Shuichi glances around at his room- the lack of clothing tossed about and stray proofs of someone spiraling into illness. Ouma is cleaning his room for him. 

"How did youuu get in again?" the detective asks. 

Ouma shoves a discarded instant ramen cup into a trash bag, "I picked the lock like I do every Wednesday! Gotta make sure only I own glorious capes and hats. Now eat your soup. Unless it's too much, then I can give you crackers."

There's a hat based attempt to fan anger in there. 

Probably. 

Shuichi reminds himself not to mouth breathe and quickly shovels a spoonful of food into that mouth instead of air. He pauses as spice and flavor starts to make his life less awful. Unfortunately, this means blowing his nose again. At least his new trash can is empty. It bring to mind his reality of Ouma acting as Toujou though. Which makes him start eating the chili again. 

Escapism via eating is a time honored Sickhara tradition. Like the time he and his aunt were getting better from a stomach bug, baked and ate a bunch of cookies, and then soon realized their foolishness. 

Actually, can chilli be soup? Ouma said it was soup. Yet it remains very much chilli. Shuichi settles on the usage of soup being a trap.

The boy looks up at Ouma and makes a noise of utter distress, "Please don't vacuum my room."

Half-way done attaching a long handle to a thin cordless vacuum, Ouma stares back wide eyed. As if he can't understand why Shuichi wouldn't want his room to be utterly cleaned of everything ever. Both of them maintain eye contact. Shuichi slowly brings his spoon back up to his mouth. He frowns when it ends up being empty. They continue to stare at one another. Ouma blinks, looks around like a lost dog, and looks back. 

Shuichi brings a spoonful of food to his lips this time. Finally, he looks away and down at his meal.

Ouma smiles cheerily, somehow mockingly, “Right right! How could I forget that you must have a headache? Rip to that idea…”

If this is what happens each time he gets sick at Hope's Peak then Shuichi is screwed. 

It feels like getting slapped in the face, honestly. The cruelest prank ever imagined. Send Ouma Kokichi into someone's bedroom and have him clean it. What kind of person would devise such a thing- other than Shuichi’s mind. Definitely just his imagination. There's really no other explanation for this. Another explanation is something that Shuichi is just not ready to handle. 

For this fever dream to be real would be way too much. But Shuichi finds himself deciding to accept it. 

Getting a few more spoonfuls, Shuichi starts coughing less and breathing better. He stays mostly compliant even when Ouma replaces his pillowcases and bedding. Only to put them in a hamper though. If Ouma had tried to throw them away then Shuichi probably would protest. At least a little bit.

Watching the other boy happily clean and hum is still surreal.

Listening to Ouma talk, currently about completely wrapping the school building with endless yarn, Shuichi realizes that he's scraping his empty bowl with his spoon. The detective sighs and puts it on his now 'purged of germs' nightstand. There's a thermos of tea waiting for him too. All Ouma says is that it's minty tea for Shuichi's throat. It makes him twitch each time he thinks about it. Not a single part of him can fully accept that none of this is a 'lie'. Shuichi’s tongue burns, his throat isn't murdering him, and Ouma just tossed a mandarin orange onto his chest. 

An adorable face smiles up Shuichi’s own. It looks vaguely like a drawing that Ouma once spray painted onto the school.

Not a single motive claws its way into a logical position.

Shuichi grabs the thermos and chugs down tea. Minty and gingery. Disturbingly good. 

"Did Ouma-kun make all this?" he asks a bit too loudly. Ouma just nods and finally starts to unpack all the plastic bags.

"I made it by extortion! I blackmailed Mom until she temporarily gave me her talent, did the same to the cook guy, and basically I just all around used my evil powers," the Ultimate Supreme Leader quickly asserts. His smile darkens around the edges. "And now you have nanobots in you. They'll kill you if you eeeever disobey me!"

There is no collection of words in any language that describe how Shuichi feels. Not adequately. His room has been invaded and cleaned. He has been fed and watered by an apron wearing Ouma. In essence, the only correct choice is to laugh and unwrap another lemon flavored lozenge. 

So, that's what Shuichi does.

Gathering up his blankets, the sick boy smiles and shifts until he's laying down. Turning over, Shuichi says, “Good night, Ouma-kun. I won't arrest you for now."

Cough medicine somehow makes for nice hallicin-

"Good night! Love y-yyyhhh."

"Oh."

Neither of them move.

"Bye and remember tohydrateigittago!"

Shuichi slows turns back over and stares at Ouma. However, all he sees is the boy's bright red face for a grand total of three seconds. A glimpse of utterly panicked eyes. By the time the Ultimate Detective connects the dots and opens his mouth, Ouma is fleeing the scene.

Saihara Shuichi is definitely still an idiot asshole... But maybe he should grab his phone... And text Ouma. That would be a good idea to make happen. Shuichi would be solving problems. He can tell Ouma that he didn't mean to be internally petty, and that his feelings…

Saihara Shuichi falls asleep right after his hands collide with tea thermos and cell phone, sending them both straight to the floor.

**Author's Note:**

> "And that's how Saihara-chan and I started dating! Since yesterday. I'm having Togami-chan find a Vegas priest willing to officiate the wedding," Ouma finishes, smug and smirking. 
> 
> Saihara hides his blushing by blowing his nose. It is loud and akin to an elephant. 
> 
> A minute of utter silence go by before Maki, red eyes gleaming, pounces across the table hands outstretched. Even if she accepts this, the girl cannot stay unheard. She wraps her hands around her detective friend's face and says, "You are an idiot sandwich."


End file.
